


love, scotch, and late-night parties

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: lucky you’re the one i love [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 22:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: Willow called Ripper as he was leaving the Bronze.“Jenny’s at a house party again,”she said.“So?” said Ripper dismissively.“Something’s wrong,”said Willow.“Seriously wrong. She needs you.”





	love, scotch, and late-night parties

Jenny was at a house party. Ripper, who was at the Bronze with his own bottle of scotch, hadn’t thought to ask much about the house party; he was trying to give Jenny space, because space seemed like the sort of thing he should do after the sort of thing that had happened to her. She was bouncing back, anyway, all bright smiles and well-timed quips at Scooby meetings, but there was a strange distance between them and he felt as though it wasn’t his place to bridge it. After what had happened to her—

His chest tightened and he took a swig directly from the bottle of scotch. The burn helped, a bit.

“Drinking alone?” Ethan sat down next to him, eyes directed almost purposefully ahead. There was a lazy, easy tilt to his smile.

“Sod off,” said Ripper. “This is your fucking fault.”

“You can’t have expected Eyghon _not_ to come back,” said Ethan idly, his hand reaching out to brush against Ripper’s. Ripper jerked away as though he’d been burned. “And I’ll be off in a bit, just…wanted to say goodbye. For now, at least.”

“Just  _leave,_ Ethan,” said Ripper. His thoughts were on Jenny, now, on the way Eyghon had looked cracking through her face, on the bruises left by Angel that hadn’t quite faded away. “You hurt people.”

“So do you,” said Ethan, as if this should be obvious. “It’s why we work so _well_ together, isn’t it? You hurt me, I hurt you, keeps both of us from hurting anyone else.” He reached up, gently touching Ripper’s face, and something clenched in Ripper’s chest; this felt a parody of times long gone, when they were young and stupid and Ripper was in love for the first time in his life. “You don’t miss me?” he asked, playful, flirtatious.

“I don’t—” Ripper couldn’t answer. He didn’t know what he would answer, and he wished he was a bit more sober for this conversation. Sober, he’d have punched Ethan in his fucking mouth and stormed off. “I was so fucking in love with you,” he said, “and you just—Randall _died,_ Ethan. Does that even matter to you?”

“It would have if it were you,” said Ethan, leaning in closer. “You know that, Ripper.”

The thing was, Ripper was just so tired. And so sad. And Jenny was at a house party, and they were never going to be the way that they’d been before. “I wanted to kiss her,” he said, the words spilling out without him really thinking about it. “And—go on rainy-day walks, and make her laugh—she has this, this bloody extraordinary laugh when you surprise her into laughing. I wanted to slow dance with her like we did at her prom with candles all round and her with that long purple-blue dress—”

Something in Ethan’s face had twisted. “I love you,” he said, sounding all but angry at Ripper now. “I love you, and you just—you don’t _care,_ do you? You don’t _get_ what it means, me loving you. I could love anyone else, you know, someone who loved me back—”

“You love selfishly,” said Ripper, though he didn’t move away from Ethan’s hand. “When I was with you, I loved like that too. I think you miss _that,_ Ethan. Not me.” He reached up, touching Ethan’s hand. “She’s better than both of us,” he said, “and we hurt her. I can’t forgive someone who hurt Jenny.” He meant himself, mostly, but it came out sounding like he’d never forgive Ethan—though that wasn’t too far off, honestly.

“You’re fucking drunk,” said Ethan, eyes blazing, and jerked away, storming off into the crowd without looking back. Ripper watched him go, feeling that same hollow numbness that he’d felt ever since Angel’s hands on Eyghon’s neck, and then he took another sip of scotch.

* * *

 

Jenny was at a house party, and the lights were bright, and she was considering having sex with a cute senior who’d been giving her the eye ever since she’d shown up. She looked nice, she knew. She looked fucking fantastic today in particular, ditching the military jacket and jeans for a tight, low-cut dress that made her feel comfortably not herself. Not Janna, not Jenny, not anyone. Just some random girl at a party who might have sex with a random guy.

Not Janna, not Jenny, not anyone.

Not Rupert’s, certainly.

Her chest was tight, like she was going to cry, and yet she felt as though she radiated light. She was smiling at people, people she knew, people she didn’t know. Cordelia Chase gave her an appraising and then impressed look. Harmony Kendall was chatting up a boy by the pool. Whose house was this, anyway? She didn’t think she remembered.

Her phone buzzed—a text from Willow. _movie night in 5, you still in?_

 _cant,_ Jenny texted, fingers fumbling, _at a party._

The bubbles popped up on Willow’s end almost immediately; Jenny had a feeling she knew what the next message would say. She was right. _weren’t you at a party yesterday? and then two nights before that?_

 _so?_ Jenny texted, mouth tight.

“Hey, beautiful,” came a voice, and Jenny looked up to smile flirtatiously at the senior boy. “You know, I think there’s an unspoken rule about a girl as pretty as you texting—boyfriend?”

“Just a friend,” said Jenny dismissively. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down. _so i think you should be giving yourself a break, jenny. we only ever see you at scooby meetings. we miss you._

“Good to know,” said the senior boy. Up close, he wasn’t all that cute. Or—he _was,_ objectively speaking, and if Jenny wasn’t so in love with someone else that she couldn’t even see straight, but she was, and so he wasn’t. “I’ve seen you around a few times, you know,” he said. “Class of 2018?”

“The very same,” said Jenny, letting her hand brush his elbow. “Mind getting me a drink?”

“I’d be honored,” said the boy.

Jenny’s phone buzzed again as he left. _we’re starting to worry about you, that’s all._

 _dont,_ she texted back. _its none of your business._

* * *

 

Willow called Ripper as he was leaving the Bronze. _“Jenny’s at a house party again,”_ she said.

“So?” said Ripper dismissively.

 _“Something’s wrong,”_ said Willow. _“Seriously wrong. She needs you.”_

Ripper let out a derisive laugh. “She doesn’t _need me,_ ” he said. “No one _needs me._ I fucked up and I hurt her. She needs her bloody _space,_ Willow, and you need to let her have it.”

 _“Ripper,”_ said Willow. Her voice trembled, and it made Ripper’s throat feel tight. He caused that. He hurt Jenny and Willow and everyone with his stupid fucking past. _“I-I don’t know what to do, okay? We keep on trying to talk to her and she just brushes us off. You know that’s not like Jenny.”_

A new emotion cut through the haze of guilt and inebriation—concern. Perhaps Willow might be wrong about Jenny needing him, but she wasn’t wrong that brushing off the girls was a very un-Jennylike thing to do. Even when Jenny had broken her arm, gotten nearly killed by that vampire on patrol, fallen out of a tree—she’d always, always found time to make sure Willow and Buffy knew she was okay. “She might not talk to me,” said Ripper quietly.

 _“At least try,”_ said Willow helplessly. _“Please.”_

She hung up, then, leaving Ripper with the painful and frustrating urge to burst into tears. He was suddenly so worried about Jenny he couldn’t stand it. It was one thing for her to be light and breezy and not-quite-all-right, but it was quite another thing for her to worry Willow to the extent that Willow asked _him_ for help. Willow was only now getting over her crush on Jenny, and still a little jealous of the attention Jenny had been paying Ripper; asking Ripper for help wasn’t something she’d do unless she thought it was a genuine emergency.

Ripper called Jenny. She didn’t pick up. He texted her, then: _what party are u at?_ She didn’t respond. He thought about things a bit more, then called Cordelia.

“Oh my _god,_ ” she said as soon as he’d picked up. “This had _better_ be good, Ripper. I’m at a _senior_ party in the _rich side of town_ and they’ve got a _pool,_ not to mention these totally over-the-top stone lions right by the front door—”

“Thanks,” said Ripper, and hung up. Cordelia had a wholly helpful tendency to overshare.

* * *

 

Jenny did not, as it happened, stick around for the senior boy to come back with her drink, because all of a sudden some moron turned the lights out and the whole room was strobe lights and screams and too-loud music. And she kept on thinking of being locked in her own body, trapped in the demon’s memories of power and sex and bright, bright lights, and she just—she had to get the fuck out of there before she totally fucking panicked and looked like a complete idiot. So she ran.

Upstairs, and through the hallway, and through a carpeted bedroom, and she honestly didn’t know how she got there, but suddenly she was sitting on the roof, shaking and cold, one of her clunky heels broken and her stupid dress torn. She missed her military jacket and her dumb T-shirts.

She wished that this was the first time that this had happened at a party. But this was what kept on fucking happening. She’d gone to the first one two days after Eyghon and broken down within five minutes, running down the drive in bare feet just to get out of the crowd. She’d gone to the second one not long after that, and then the third one, and they always ended with her a complete mess, and she just—she just wanted to be— _normal,_ better, somehow okay again, because that was what she needed—

“Weirdest fucking place to find you,” said Ripper.

Jenny jumped, then turned, too startled and too _stupidly_ in love to be angry. “Rupert,” she said in a small voice. “I-I can’t—”

“Now, just for the sake of honesty,” said Ripper, taking a step towards her and then sitting down very slowly, “I’m a bit drunk, so if I fall off the roof I will need you to call an ambulance and also _not_ tell them I offered you scotch. Scotch?” he added, holding up the bottle.

“What are you doing here?” Jenny asked quietly.

To her surprise, Ripper sniffled. “Um,” he mumbled. “Willow called. Said she was worried about you.”

“I’m  _fine,”_ said Jenny, but her voice broke in the middle.

“Janna,” said Ripper, and god, she _hated_ how he said her name. She hated the way he made it sound like something special, something real, a secret between him and her. She hated the way he made her feel like he liked _her,_ no matter what she was called. “I—I just want—”

“You’ve been ignoring me for the last two weeks,” said Jenny, looking up at the sky so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I don’t know what I did.” She swallowed, hard. “Was it because—of Eyghon? Because I didn’t mean—I know it was stupid, standing that near the book cage, but I didn’t think—” She stopped herself. “I know I was stupid,” she said. “Getting myself possessed—”

“ _Janna,_ ” said Ripper, horrified. “You don’t—you  _can’t_ think it’s your fault.”

“If it wasn’t my fault,” said Jenny unsteadily, “you’d be able to look me in the eye.” She pressed her lips together, focusing very hard on trying not to cry. “So don’t come around pretending like you’re worried,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m dealing.”

Ripper let out this shaky breath. She did look at him, then, and saw—he was crying. Silently, but his shoulders were shaking, and god, Jenny had never once seen him cry. “I fucked it up,” he whispered. “I fucked it all up. I thought—thought you’d need space, thought you wouldn’t want to be ‘round me—Janna, I’d, I’d do _anything_ for you, I swear, anything, just—ask me, Janna, I’ll do it, _please_ —”

Jenny stared at him, heart pounding, and god, she finally got it. He was scared, and he’d been hurt, and being in love had never ended well for him, and she wanted to tell him right then that she’d wait as long as he needed. What came out instead was, “You’re my best friend,” in a small, wobbly voice, then, “I just want you to be here. If I haven’t messed things up too badly—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Ripper fiercely.

“But if I—”

“Calendar,” said Ripper, and wiped his nose ungracefully on his leather jacket. He seemed to be a bit calmer, now. “This Eyghon mess, Ethan coming back to town—this was all me. S’pose I thought—you’d blame me for it, on account of you really should.”

“Bullshit,” said Jenny, and reached for him, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket till their shoulders brushed. “You’re the least fucked up thing in my life right now. If there’s crazy stuff going down with demons from your past, that’s okay. Just don’t ditch me when it’s over.”

“I just wanted you to—I wanted you to be in control,” said Ripper quietly. “I wanted you to get to choose when you’re all right being around me again.”

“So  _say that,_ dumbass!”

“Don’t call me a dumbarse, Janna,” said Ripper, affronted. “Came here, didn’t I? Knew you needed me.”

Jenny opened her mouth to say he _hadn’t_ known, Willow had _told_ him, and anyway only a dumbass would think that it was his fault she cared about him enough to get caught in the crossfire. But he looked so wrung-out, even in his indignance, and she couldn’t bring herself to argue with him when he’d driven across town to find her, so—

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I did. I did need you.”

Ripper looked first startled, then almost afraid. “I don’t wanna let you down,” he said.

“You won’t,” said Jenny, and at his sleeve, her hand moved up his arm to rest on his shoulder. Their noses were touching. “I won’t let you.”

She could hear him breathing, quiet and unsteady, and his eyes flickered all but guiltily down to her mouth. But he was precious cargo, she’d known that coming in, and she wasn’t going to push him into something he was still afraid of, so she kissed him on the cheek instead. “I’m always gonna need you here,” she said softly. “No matter how many dumb decisions you made before I met you. All right?”

Ripper smiled, small and shy, as though he almost didn’t realize he was doing it. “All right,” he said.

* * *

 

Ripper drove Jenny home. He draped his jacket over her shoulders as he led her to the car, and, when they’d started driving and he was certain she was dozing, subtly checked his face in the rearview mirror. There was a plum-colored smudge from her lipstick, and when he grinned, it stood out starkly on his cheek.


End file.
